Jonah's in Feral Mutation. Rough approximation would be this though more and bigger.
Jonah was gone. The rational part of him at least. Some would call it the human side of him but he had rejected that concept a long time ago. The person within him was gone. The thinker. The one that kept his strength in check. All there was now was the animal, the Darkness.
Already large, his shoulders had broadened further, cords of muscles stretching his skin tight. His nails dug in to his palms, close to piercing his hands completely, dripping his blood on to the tile floor of his room. The apartment was in shambles. His mattress shredded, every piece of furniture broken in to pieces. The only things not broken, the handful of gifts he had received from friends and family over his few years as a vampire.
A teddy bear riding a horse ended up in his hands and for a moment, he wanted to tear it apart but he fell to his knees instead, the impact reverberating through the massive building. Crawling towards the padded cell that had made him choose this room originally, the heavy door slammed shut and the impact of his forehead on the cushioned wall echoing as he continued to cradle the tiny toy in his arms, whispering his apology over and over again to the empty room.
Enver rocked back and forth on the chair at the computer desk as he worked on a couple things for work. Ordering merchandise, planning the selections of movies for the month of March since his manager was away on vacation and checking the auctions. Everything had been pretty quiet when he got to the asylum, minus a little bit of noise. He shrugged it off as someone readjusting their cell and nothing more as he continued to type away on the computer.
Until he heard a repetitive thump. He ignored the first few thumps, but when the thumps just wouldn't stop, Enver got annoyed. He was working, damn it. Enver stood with a determined push from the desk and headed to the elevator to see who was behind all the ruckus.
He wasn't familiar with the cells, or who owned them, outside of two, so when he was setting off in a new direction of the hallway, Enver was a little surprised. He didn't think anyone, or many people actually lived here. He stopped at a door, the door of the repetitive thumping and gave it a solid knock. And another knock. He wasn't sure the person knew he was knocking with all the thumping going on behind the door, so Enver decided to see if the door was unlocked by giving the knob a twist and the door a push.
Peter still half thought all this was some kind of hallucinatory nightmare. He was often both mentally and physically exhausted, and it was a challenge to get used to the new sleeping pattern. One of his favourite things have been getting up with the dogs and the crack of dawn to go for a walk through the wilderness, on the track near his cabin. Even in winter, that walk helped to clear his mind of cobwebs, and left him fresh for the day ahead. He’d end, listening to the birds sing and watching as the sun began to rise, drinking coffee and catching up on his reading on the deck. He couldn’t do that anymore. It saddened him, that he couldn’t even remember what it was like, the last time he had done it. It was a blessing that he had taken for granted, and never did assume that it would be wrenched from him in such a way.
Shock and awe were still prominent features in the tall man’s psyche. Even now he was curled up on the couch in one of the front rooms of the Asylum; he felt like a nutcase, half the time these days, and it was both a comfort and a dismay to be semi-living in a place that could perhaps be intended for insane people. He’d been reading. One of the old books that he’d borrowed from the library. The pages were musty and yellow. The smell of them was a comfort to him. He’d fallen sideways, however; was curled up like a child in the foetal position, his long legs tucked up and his arms hugging that book to his chest as if it were some anchor keeping him in place. His jaw was slack, his brow furrowed over his closed eyes.
A thumping jolted him out of his restless slumber. The sound of a door slamming? He visibly jumped again, as the sound reverberated throughout the halls. He swallowed, before he stood. He still hugged the book to his chest. He was barefoot; he wore black slacks and a button-up white, long-sleeved shirt that was crumpled, and not tucked in. He followed the sound. Keara had given him a tour, and he vaguely knew where he was going. He didn’t particularly like the thought of getting lost, but at least, he supposed, he felt some modicum of comfort here.
When finally he stumbled across the sound, he also stumbled across the man who was half responsible for the fact that Peter could never enjoy a nice scalding hot cup of coffee at sunrise ever again. Enver was standing at what appeared to be a locked door. Peter hovered nearby.
”Something wrong?” he asked, still hugging that book to his chest.
Something was knocking on his door. The slamming of his head in to a wall grew in strength and he tried to block out the sound of the knock but it kept up for a few moments. Gritting his teeth, he thought the intrusion was over but then the handle jiggled and he heard muffled voices from outside.
Someone wanted to get to him. Someone wanted to hurt him. He would not let that happen.
Dropping the now bloody teddy bear, the giant killer tore the door from the padded cell and slung it against the door, roaring "Go! Away!" Flung like a frisbee, it caught the front door with a corner.
The wooden entrance and frame were sturdy and strong but the metal door was heavier and thrown with all the strength the man possessed. It swelled and cracked, sending splinters towards the two men as it was knocked off of its hinges and showed the destruction that the vampire had wrought.
"Woah!"Jennifer's hand shot upwards and just caught the bottle that had fell from the normally solid grip of her employer."Zoey, you okay?"The mystic closed her eyes and rubbed her temples gently as she stood there for several moments."Zo?"now the girl's voice was filled with real concern.
"I am fine,"the gypsy suddenly answered."But someone is not."She abruptly turned and made for the door that took her upstairs to her private workroom and lair, leaving the girl standing beside the counter. Jennifer walked to the door and placed theBACK IN 15 MINSsign up and locked the door before following the woman.
Upstairs, Jennifer found the gypsy vampire standing beside a small table she usually kept covered. Under the sheet was a bizarre collection of buttons, whatnots, items, coins, bits of hair, pictures and other such things. The woman was mouthing something as her hands passed slowly over the items on the tabletop. The assistant knew at once what was going on now. Jennifer could point to a small brass button that had been plucked free from her jean jacket among the other things that had been collected over time. Each bit represented someone the mystic cared about in one way or another. Sympathetic Magicks some called it."Who is it?"the girl asked.
"Not one of these, not one of mine, but someone close regardless....."Zodiac shook her head sadly."Someone in deep pain not of the body but of their very soul."she sniffed a bit. Jennifer did not scoff. Even before her friend and employer had been turned she had displayed talents and traits she could not deny and this was one of them. She could sense someone's duress if she was in tune with them. Not the hows or whys but the fact someone was hurting."I have no clue where to look for this one, but they are close I think."
"Think they will be okay?"
"Only the Goddess knows for sure on that one,"Zodiac sighed as she wiped a crimson tear from her cheek.
Some day I'm gonna be happy. I don't know when just now I still have clouds to dance upon, and the moon expects me for tea
The Pandora Project.
The door wouldn't budge open, not that Enver expected it to, in truth. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try. A question had his attention and caused Enver to turn and forget about the continual banging he heard for the time being. "Yeah, some as-" He stopped and caught himself. The person behind the door probably wasn't deliberately trying to be an asshole, but they were doing a damn good job of it. Plus, whoever it was behind this door was one of Keara's and Enver had learned that most of them weren't all that bad. Minus one or two bad apples, but there was Jonah, Reganleif, Lionsgate didn't seem half bad and now Peter.
"Someone's bothering me while I'm working. Just trying to see what's going on. Doubt you're any good at picking locks, huh?" Enver shrugged at the suggestion, sure he already knew the answer based off how things went the night he had met Peter and practically sired him, if his wife hadn't decided to beat him at the last minute. A loud voice cut off any other suggestions Enver might have made out loud, to himself or Peter; one that warned them to go away. The voice was male, no doubt about that, but he wasn't sure who the hell it could be. It didn't sound like anyone he'd ever spoken to, physically, in the Vedarian line. He didn't even think it was possible for someone in this family to get that loud, truth be told.
"Well, guess we have to put up with it if we can't get in." Enver said, before pulling out his phone and sending Keara a text about someone in her family more than likely destroying their room and how it might be a good idea to come home soon, even if the raid was still going on. As he was doing this, there was a loud crash of something against the door and right after that and explosion of wood flew at the two of them. There really wasn't time to do anything, except the only thing Enver could think of; push Peter to the side, which probably didn't do much of anything. But the reaction just seemed natural to Enver. Maybe because he knew Peter was just a few nights old in the vampire world, or because he thought of Peter being his; after all he had done most the hard work for him to get sired. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter to Enver, he just did it. And probably got the brunt end of the door that was pulverized, more or less. Pieces of wood embedded in to Enver's skin; all sorts of shapes and sizes.
Enver growled from the unexpected pain, but more so the nuisance the person was bringing on him and the whole god damn house. His fists clenched at his sides as the male closed his eyes and focused on Keara; the woman who could keep Enver in balance, or in check really, as his emotions threatened to consume him a great many of times. The first reaction was to go in the room and beat the ever loving tar out of the person who had almost killed him, hell, almost killed Peter, but after a few seconds of focusing on Keara, Enver's eyes popped open and while he was still wounded, it didn't bother him as much as it normally did. Maybe that was because as he thought of her, Enver had pulled out the largest hunt of wood that had embedded in the right side of his gut out and it no longer hurt like a son of a *****. "Like I said, some asshole is being a prick." He hadn't said that the first time, but he hardly held back his feelings, even if he didn't react to them, vocally.
His gaze shifted from Peter, to who the possible culprit was and Enver was surprised. He hadn't expected to see a monster, more or less in the walls of the asylum. A quick assessment showed the room to be in shambles more or less, and in those shambles was a teddy bear? "What in the hell?" Enver asked no one, but asked it anyways out loud. "Look. I don't know who you are, but you can't be ruining rooms. Your own or other people's." Enver walked in to the room, now that two doors no longer stood in his way, a finger pointing at the large monster of a man. "My wife made up these rooms for family members and family doesn't **** all over the hard work of other people who made sure they had a place to stay." Maybe Keara had sired another bad seed, judging by the way this...thing was acting. "I get bad moods, but my wife didn't do anything to deserve a room in her house being demolished by some ungrateful asshole." His finger dropped as Enver took in a few quick, shallow breaths, as if he were tired from his tangent, or tired from his wounds, which was probably more the case. "So knock it off, or get the hell out of the house."
The book was still clutched tightly to Peter’s chest. The thumping was like a thundering bass drum, reverberating through his entire body. After being turned he realised that his senses were all awry; they were more sensitive. Every tiny little thing he could see in stark detail, right down to the dust motes that dances haphazardly through the air. The sound wasn’t particularly inviting. It was foreboding, the thumping. The loudness of it – whether it was actually loud or not, it sounded like it – had Peter on edge, his teeth clenched, his knuckles white. At least Enver seemed calm.
Seemed, at least, until the door came flying off its hinges in an explosion of wooden splinters. A shout came unbidden from Peter’s lips as he was shoved aside, and thusly saved from having any of those miscreant splinters skewer his skin. Enver caught the brunt of the explosion; there was the scent of blood, acrid and unappealing. Why was the scent of vampire blood unappealing? Another thing that Peter might have to look up. Or ask. Right now, however, was not the time; Enver was no longer calm, and he was riddled with wounds. If he had a beating heart, Peter’s might be hammering. But he had no beating heart and so although he knew he should be in a panic, his body was oddly serene. His mind was on overdrive, however, hardly having the time to freak out, yet again, over the fact that he had no heartbeat.
The sight of the blood was what threw Peter for a loop. He had never liked blood before. Never liked seeing it, never liked smelling it, and though he was a big man he was prone to fainting whenever there was a profuse amount of it. His head got dizzy. He stopped breathing, and tried to avert his gaze from the blood. It was a phobia that was now heightened; it made feeding somewhat problematic.
It was easy to be distracted from the sight and smell of the blood as soon as he saw past Enver and into the room beyond. Peter zoned out. He did not hear a word that Enver said; his jaw was slack as his ears began to ring. He clutched at that book tighter, as if it were an anchor. And he resisted the urge to run.
What the **** was that?!
Enver seemed unfazed. It was probably the only reason Peter stayed. A vague academic curiosity eked at the edge of his brain, numbing the fear and gluing him to the spot.
Jonah had not expected the door to splinter and break but he was more surprised that someone was now coming through the door. His eyes narrowed and he backed away from Enver as he entered, some part of him that was buried deep recognized the allurist as not a threat, but he was still wary as the other man yelled at him.
As his finger pointed at him and he drew closer, he growled low in his throat and stepped forward, towering more than usual over the other male. Raspier than normal, the killer spat out. "If you weren't Keara's, I would break you in half right now." Almost shaking with rage, he pointed his own long finger at the man and shoved him back with the single digit, the claw ripping at his shirt. "S'my room. Bought and paid for longer than you've been here. You don't know what the **** is going on so get the **** out before I decide I don't care what Keara thinks of me."
Who the hell was this...thing? He didn't give a rats *** if this was this person's room, or their things. What he cared about was the fact that his wife had set up rooms, or cells and while this person owned this one, it was still his wife's in the end. At least in Enver's mind. "Yeah? Well this is her home and your room is in her god damn home. And you're being so damn loud, people can't do a damn thing in here. Can't read, can't work, can't watch tv or listen to music either I bet." Enver scowled at the, well, thing before the male looked down at his shirt and saw the rip across it. "And now you've ripped MY shirt." Enver stood up straighter from the push he was given by the monster of a man.
"Who the hell are you anyways?" Enver was ready to toss the guy flat out on his *** and would too, if he didn't start making some sense soon and he wasn't someone Enver liked. So far he only knew of two males in the Vedarian line; Peter, who was behind him and Jonah. And no way in hell was that Jonah in front of him. Couldn't be. "And what the hell is your deal?"
If you weren’t Keara’s, the monster had said. Peter understood that in the only way he knew how. Enver was Keara’s husband. Sure, Peter might have been Keara’s childe, but did that mean anything to this hulking angry…thing? Rather than run or bring any attention to himself, he opted to stay very, very still. Perhaps if he did not move, the thing might not notice him. And thus might not think to tear Peter apart, just for being there.
Enver was so full of confidence, however; the threat glanced off him, or was absorbed by him, like the sun’s rays might be absorbed by a black surface. Maybe Enver was strengthened by the threat, fuelled by the other’s anger.
Peter tried to look at the situation from the perspective of a non-biased outside party. It wasn’t so hard to do – he was a non-biased outside party, kind of. The hulk said that he had paid for the room, that it was his. Somehow, then, he must belong here. And yet he was not recognised by Enver. Peter could only assume something was not right. He stole a glance at the room, the cage, the stuffed toy. He could see both sides of the story. One who thought he belonged and thus could do what he liked in his own space, and the other who pointed out that the space was not really his own. Keara was body corporate. This man just a landlord. A renter, even. The body corporate had the power.
Finally, Peter took a single quavering step forward. He still clutched the book tight to his chest. He took strength from Enver’s confidence. Perhaps Enver would indeed be able to hold his own.
”Okay, okay. I think we all, to some extent, care what Keara thinks about us. Am I right in assuming if you paid for a room here, you are part of…the extended bloodline? Which means, I don’t think Keara would like it if anyone hurt anyone else. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries but maybe if you ah… tell us if something’s wrong, and maybe we can help…?”
Peter was astounded, a tiny bit overwhelmed that he was actually talking to this beast in such a calm way. He was astounded that he was able to summon such a calm voice. And he was still more than a little afraid – but he stoically stood his ground anyway.
